Lux Aeterna
by H.R.E.R
Summary: "The ones who love us never really leave us."


**Lux Aeterna**

Monsters, which rarely come in the form of big snakes, lurk right under our noses, and when we acknowledge them we get paralysed. Life is easier when those monsters are ignored; we can cover them with an invisibility cloak, throw some darkness powder, stare somewhere else or simply deny that a monster is, indeed, a monster.

Seven days ago, Harry wasn't given any of those options.

It was as if he was trapped inside a spinning room. It was overcrowded, had no doors and the windows were all closed. People were dancing, celebrating God only knows what. Ball gowns, gloves, jewellery, cards, and masks. Disturbing masks. The black and white tiles continued to turn. There was no noise. Silence made everything more terrifying. Their mouths moved, and the laughter played only in his mind. He screamed, and they ignored. He cried, they danced. He fell, no one came. Sirius was dead.

Dumbledore explained as much as he could, still everything was senseless. How could the tables have turned so fast? Weeks ago, they were invincible heroes fighting against a repulsive toad dressed in pink, proudly standing for that which was good. Young, idealists, innocent, overconfident. Then, the reality of war came, so did the pain, injustice and mourning. Time stopped being lineal; he got stuck in the moment his godfather's smirk disappeared from sight and the shock kept coming over and over again. Even the Cruiciatus Curse at the graveyard seem merciful compared to this. Dealing with loss was so bloody hard because the pain was not produced by something, rather it came from nothing, from the absence of an irreplaceable person.

That night, the End-of-Term Feast was taking place in the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione insisted on him going; they were trying to keep him as distracted as possible. He came up with the pathetic excuse of having to pack for the summer holidays with the Dursleys—as if he was not a wizard capable of having the chore done with a flick of the wrist. His friends didn't protest. Truth be told, he hated the idea of the feast. _What was there to celebrate? How could they celebrate at all?_ Nonetheless, it seemed easier to lie than to share his thoughts.

While going through his things he found the mirror, and with it came a glimpse of hope. Unfortunately, it was short-lived. Once he found Nearly Headless Nick, he was assured Sirius had _gone on_. What did that even mean? Harry couldn't understand. His godfather would have done anything to be with him, he wouldn't have left him behind.

Sorrowful and in the verge of tears once again, he returned to his dormitory. Dumbledore told him that those who love us never truly leave us _,_ yet he felt his absence. It would take him a long time to recognise the truth of that statement. The piercing sensation in his chest and throat wouldn't disappear that night, the following day, or the next one. A part of him hoped that it would become bearable at some point.

"I brought you some treacle tart," Ron said, leaning in the doorframe while holding with both his hands not just a piece of tart but the whole dessert. He had been standing there long before he spoke; Harry had been too lost in thought to notice.

"Thanks."

"If you want real food though, we can go to the kitchens. I believe everyone has gone back to sleep by now." He offered a shy smile. "Besides, unless we go with a SPEW badge, the house-elves won't mind preparing something. Please don't tell Hermione I said that."

Harry wasn't in the mood for any last-minute detentions, or for seeing people for that matter. But there was no denying he was hungry. After leaving the Hospital Wing four days ago, he had skipped most of the meals.

"Let's bring the cloak," Harry offered.

Dean, Thomas and Neville were the only ones in the common room; no one was wandering around the castle, just like Ron promised. Then Harry realised something that made him smile. It probably had been Ron the one who made his roommates stay behind because he knew he needed time alone. Ron, his best friend who still had welts left from fighting by his side, who less than five minutes ago had made sure to bring him his favourite dessert, and who surely had done plenty of other things for him, but Harry didn't see.

He was lost but he was not alone, he never was. His two best friends would always be there for him, whether to follow or guide, to help or save, or to turn on the light when life gets too dark.

* * *

 **-C'est fini-**

THANKS FOR READING!

Word count: 786 / Category: Standard / Prompt: [Word] Sorrowful / House: Gryffindor


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